When My Husband Let My Father Die for His Mistress

On the way to the hospital, with my father suffering from a stroke, we were caught in a traffic jam. Suddenly, I spotted Spencer, my husband, working as a traffic cop. My mother was about to plead for his help, but I decisively swerved into a less congested side street.

In a previous time, Spencer had hesitated but eventually helped clear a path to the hospital. However, that night, his childhood friend Monica, upset about Spencer ignoring her calls, turned on the gas and took her own life. Spencer seemed indifferent to her tragic decision and even organized a Thanksgiving gathering for my father once he was discharged. Yet at that event, he poisoned the food.

"It's all because of you and your damn father! Why else would Monica have killed herself? You both caused her death, and now it's payback time!" he snarled, his words dripping with malice.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my father's stroke first occurred. This time, Spencer received Monica's call and rushed to her immediately. But why does he still feel guilt now?

The cacophony of honking horns surrounded us during rush-hour traffic, as my father lay unconscious in my mother's arms, unresponsive. We were stranded at the intersection.

Outside the car window, Spencer's colleague Carlos stood in uniform, his face stern.

"Everyone's stuck here. If I clear the road just for you, people will say I'm playing favorites. Seriously, Katie, what are you trying to pull here?" he accused, his eyes cold.

My mother's anxiety was palpable; she was shouting desperately.

"There's a life hanging in the balance here! What kind of cops are you?!"

Half an hour ago, I relived this day again. This time, as I found myself stuck in traffic, I opted not to ask Spencer, who was directing traffic, for assistance. Instead, I weaved through the vehicles, turning onto a quieter side street. But before I could speed up, Carlos showed up, blocking my way.

"What life? I don't see anything. Your dad's just napping in the back seat. How could he have had a stroke?" he mocked.

"If you keep causing a scene and disrupting traffic, I'll have no choice but to take you down to the station and lock you up."

Carlos's mocking smile betrayed his disdain. Nearby drivers honked, upset at my attempt to break through.

"Can't you follow the rules?! Why should we wait while you don't?!"

"Exactly! She should've asked her cop husband to clear the road. Who does she think she is?!"

The chorus of voices was loud inside the car. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, my back drenched in cold sweat, overwhelmed with despair. Would my father die here today?

My mother's cries were tinged with hopelessness, unable to understand why nobody believed her husband was at death's door.

"Katie, Spencer warned me about your antics. I have to say, you do put on quite a show," Carlos sneered.

"Spencer told me to let you wait for the traffic to ease today. Don't make a scene or cost him his job, alright?"

I tightened my grip on the wheel. Carlos was a capable officer, but he never treated me fairly. I hadn't understood his animosity before, but now it was clear. He believed I was holding Spencer back, preventing him from reaching his potential.

In his eyes, I was the conniving woman who had trapped Spencer in marriage. Because of me, Spencer never ended up with his childhood friend Monica. But there was no time for explanations; my father had been unconscious for too long, and every second mattered.

Suppressing the panic rising in my mind, I opened the car door and walked toward Carlos.